We desire to possess a beauty that is worth pursuing, worth fighting for, a beauty that is core to who we truly are. We want beauty that can be seen; beauty that can be felt; beauty that affects others; a beauty all our own to unveil.
True vampires that want to build a strong family does not go around turning people just because they want to. But even the most sensible of vampire can be tempted by beauty. When you come across someone whose beauty seems to be made of the stars themselves, then you want to preserve that beauty forever. Despite knowing that it may not be the best idea in the world. But then beauty is a power all of its own.
It is cruel, you know, that music should be so beautiful. It has the beauty of loneliness and of pain: of strength and freedom. The beauty of disappointment and never-satisfied love. The cruel beauty of nature, and everlasting beauty of monotony.
It was the upward-reaching and fathomlessly hungering, heart-breaking love for the beauty of the world at its most beautiful, and, beyond that, for that beauty east of the sun and west of the moon which is past the reach of all but our most desperate desiring and is finally the beauty of Beauty itself, of Being itself and what lies at the heart of Being.
Beauty is a burden as well as a gift. Beauty puts other women on edge. It torments men. Man is born adoring beauty and carries, just below the surface, a predisposition, a gut feeling, that beauty should be profaned and destroyed. The first thing conquering armies do is burn the library and rape the virgins.